Drake the Amazing and La Dispute | Owl Farm & Darlinghurst Theatre

I do love a love story. I’m always happy to surrender to an evening of investigation into the struggle and elation that love brings. I think it’s an important part of theatre’s role in society to remind us of that which is the most powerful influence and an endlessly fascinating driving force – Love. And the challenge of artists in the face of love is how to make fresh and new the topic – which is as old as baby-making. I’m also, luckily, not a genre snob. In fact, I love a comedy -which is a good thing because it provides my wild, rambunctious laugh an outlet. How could I resist a double bill at Darlinghurst theatre – Drake the Amazing and La Dispute?

Before I continue to write about this show I need to declare my hand – It’s a full hand and I would feel very uncomfortable writing about this production if I didn’t…

Firstly, I have known the director John Kachoyan since 2003 – when he made the brave leap into the unknown with one of the first plays I had written…and have worked with him a couple of times that year. And as things go – international curiosity pulled us in opposite directions – and soon I was off to Canada (with a Lonely Planet John had given me tucked under my arm) and he was off to london. Since then, now and again, we’ve bumped into each other in foyers and it’s always a pleasure to hear of his adventures and acheivements – far and wide. And his bio speaks of bold brave strides into the UK scene – directing plays by some of my favourite Aussie writers – what’s not to love?

Secondly, I know the producer Michaela Kalowski – who when i started in this industry (as a stagemanager) we got along great guns. For this project there was a bit of back and forth about helping them find a stage managers. It’s not something I helped with really – despite her perseverence… She knows what she’s doing as a producer – she doesn’t produce theatre very much , because she works at the ABC as a producer and she’s great at her job. There’s one thing for sure, it’s going be a well facilitated show.

Thirdly, the actors in this show are some of my all time favourites – some are writers in their own right and several have been on board various projects I have fronted. Talented, charismatic, intelligent…. and more than that – as people (not just colleagues) they are top-quality folk who I am destined to drink tea with … they are lovely. no question.

So on this occasion I was all set to be swept away. And in part I was. But there was a part which wasn’t. I was fairly disengaged with the work- and didn’t laugh. I also didn’t fall in love… I was all set to – but it felt like I had been set up on a date where within the first few minutes it was clear – there are some fundamental philosophical differences that are insurmountable.

And it has nothing to do with the actors, or the performances – largely the style (declamatory and large) fits the genre. As you all know I love actors – and there are so many in this cast that are doing an absolutely triumphant job making the material work. I don’t think there is anything wrong with the design. It looks great -and as a side note costume designer Marissa Dale-Johnson must be the hardest working designer in Sydney at the moment with design work popping up all over Sydney. It had to do with the plays. The writing and the choice of plays. The content of the work.

There is one major dramaturgical flaw in Drake the Amazing and that is it’s start. When we see the end – it’s hard to be curious about seeing the beginnong – unless the beginning is super spectauclarly surprising. The acting is amazing – I believe kate Skinner, Andrew Johnston and Scott Sheridan and Nicholas Papademetriou are incredible performers they made the script seem more interesting than it really is.
And then La Dispute. Well – it’s a very old premise and this is Andy Hyman’s version. And for me I found it hard to understand why this version was superior to other versions floating about. The actors did an amazing job with the material they were given. And that’s why I love actors.

So post event I looked a little further into the supporting material to see what this philosophical disjuncture was.

And I found it.

Looking through Kachoyan’s directors notes I saw alot about the artifice of theatre – about the audience about the affect cpmedy has on people and the purpose of comedy. But nothing about the actual subject matter – what does Kachoyan believe about love? Or relationships? What does he believe about the gender battles? What is he communicating to us about the world – about the heart of the subject matter?

I believe art (and entertainment) is at it’s best when it risks something. When it is bold and when that boldness is undeniable. I believe to ask an audience to attend a play is to offer them more than what they already think/know/feel/have in their lives. Art and art as entertainment is at it’s best when it is dangerous. When it is risking. When it is risky.
What was John risking by directing this show?

The simple answer is reputation. Or career.

And largely that is what the director’s notes talk to – is the making of theatre. Likewise the writer’s notes talk not about the ideas, but the making of theatre.
And that seems to me to be focus of the work – a focus on production – on the object of theatre- not the purpose of theatre – to enlighten, transform, question life and love as we know it.

And I wouldn’t consider myself an honest person if I didn’t voice my firm objection to some of the opinions or at least the tone about the Australian theatre industry aired in this article.

“All this love and guts and money went into indie shows” reflects John. “I thought ‘I can’t do this for the next ten years. I’m too ambitious. It’s too discouraging.”
My response to that is this – that to be an indie artist is to be endlessly ambitious. To be commerical – to be a director for hire by a major company is less ambitious – because it comes loaded with it a lot of social capital and alot of resources. The risk in Indie shows is financial, personal, and artistic…
And furthermore, I believe that Life is discouraging – and yet we as humans are innately optimistics because we defy death and plan and live as much as we can in the face of tragedy and disappointment.
Life is discouraging. Art is difficult.
And the grass is NOT greener. It’s just different and forces you to react differently.

Therein lies the difference in the two cities John feels.

In London, Fringe Theatre is on the fringe of something. “The fringe is much more connected to Edinburgh or touring shows. There’s much more connection.”
“There’s more gatekeeping in Sydney. [In London] you don’t just work in the Fringe and leave it and never touch it again. You might come back to do something really important or different.”
There is a fringe theatre scene in Sydney – and it is on the fringe of something – the CITY! The fringe here is geographical. Head to Casual, Bankstown, Penrith, Parramatta – look at the work and and residencies – look at Urban Theatre Projects or Blacktown Arts Centre….There’s also lots of touring – Critical Stages are awesome legends! Also the fringe circuit is very mobile right now – let’s not forget TINA, Melbourne and Adelaide Fringes and the troubled but determined Sydney Fringe. There’s also many spaces for hire – and more site specific work happening in Sydney than ever before.

“It’s amazing, I went half way around the world to find an American playwright, to debut a play in Scotland just so I could get it up in Sydney” muses Kachoyan.
Why? I ask. Why? Look at the amazing playwrights you’ve worked with – Tommy Murphy, Josh Lawson and Brendan Cowell, Melissa Bubnic, Jack Hibberd, John AD Fraser. Why are we having this work on stage – this very unsurprising, pedestrian safe work when the Australian writers here and now are SO intense and risky, edgy and amazing? I just don’t get it.

OK.

So that’s my response.

And I can’t wait to see Kachoyan’s Australian offerings – I’m just sad he has to do it in London. Because really, with the scripts I am reading at the moment – there is no room for any more average American plays. I want to see the plays that makes Kachoyan’s head spin – I want to see him frightened and shitting himself on opening night because he is scared because he is risking all of himself – all that he beleives. All he wants. All he desires. I want to see something that isn’t safe. I want more from Kachoyan because I reckon he’s capable of it.

And now that I have written this – he’ll hate me.

The actors and the team might hate me. But this is what I am risking.

I’m risking this bad opinion because I care.

I ABSOLUTELY CARE

And I love my industry and theatre commmunity, with all my heart… and I want it to be braver, sassier, brighter and riskier.

Hi Gus! I really like your point about ‘personal’ indie theatre. I am already shitting myself about my show in October because it really feels like I will be opening my heart to be dissected by audiences…and of course, colleagues! But that fear, and the optimism that drives it (about the importance of the play to me, and other people, and as an offering to the world) makes the fear worthwhile.
If living is an essentially brave act, in view of our ultimate death, then it makes sense for our art to be just as brave.

Read the SMH article, isn’t it just more of plugging into Australia’s status anxiety to sell a story? The story is the same, just some new names – Australia is shit, London is the centre, allusions to famous bars and fabulous English players, it’s such a pity we’re a colonial outpost full of nothingness. Same story, different wrapping paper. Sell, sell, sell. It’s an angle, some spin. I don’t believe for a second that the team sat in a Covent Garden wine bar eavesdropping on Pinter saying, gee, this play is perfect for Sydney. I really want it to go on in Sydney, man, Sydney’s such a touch city, Sydney’s a pipe dream, Sydney’s unreachable… I guess we’ll just have to settle for the Finborough and Edinburgh…

Having not seen it I can’t speak to this particular production, but to pursue a little devil’s advocacy I would posit that one reason for the lack of the “intense and risky, edgy and amazing” is simply that audiences don’t really seem to want that at the moment. Put on a comedy or murder mystery if you want full houses.

I’m not actually arguing here from the mundane reality of cash flow, but going for something slightly subtler: if the audience don’t want to see the edgy stuff, should we as theatre practitioners be attempting to get them to see it or should we be catering to their taste for less risky stuff?

Many of them are really not ever going to enjoy anything that challenges them. We risk becoming the ‘evil’ parent demanding “Eat your sprouts, they’re good for you, I know best”, and turning them off theatre entirely – which I think would be a monstrous shame. It’s not a bad thing to provide a gentler introduction to new theatre goers.

So while you are absolutely right in your above thoughts (it’s a beautiful and inspiring piece of writing you’ve given us), I think there is a place for the “very unsurprising, pedestrian safe work” in the Sydney theatre landscape.

As the writer of these plays, I figured I might weigh in on some of this stuff, since I can offer a little insight into the selection process that went on with these plays. I love what you’ve got to say about the necessity of a commitment to producing the best of Australian theatre, and I would certainly agree with you that it’s a pursuit worthy of not only the best Australian directors, but the best directors everywhere, since what the writers of this country are producing is as good as anything I’ve seen anywhere else.

But that demand, earnest as it is, seems to arise out of the cautionary tale of these ill-fated plays, and, necessary as it may be, I think it does a disservice to John, Michaela, and the rest of the cast and crew to assume you didn’t enjoy yourself in the audience not only because the shows didn’t suit your tastes, but because the choice of the material itself wasn’t risky enough—when these people have risked a good deal to put these shows on.

To say that the reason you didn’t laugh at these plays is because the writing wasn’t up to par seems a fairly straightforward and honest response, and, I’d be happy to leave it at that, and call it a day. But what you seem to be searching for, beyond the issue of personal taste, is an explanation of why John CHOSE these plays in the first place—which I guess is a reasonable pursuit, if you didn’t like the scripts, and, as you’ve expressed in great detail, you’ve always trusted those who made the choice.

What you try to find is an answer based on John’s unfavorable attitude as expressed in the supporting and press materials, and, based on that, the conclusion you come to in light of that information seems to hold up. Unfortunately, you never ask the question, is John really as intellectually compromised as you think he appears? Or is he just not any good at writing program notes, and giving interviews—and is this really a valuable explanation of what went wrong here? Program notes are a just a problem for some of us—we try too hard to make ourselves sound important and all-knowing—and the SMH article is definitely weird; the whole “eavesdropped on Pinter, swapped drinking stories with Sir John Gielgud,” stuff? Never happened. In fact, I read now that Gielgud was dead for seven years by the time John and I got to London, and that certainly wasn’t the only discrepancy between the story the article tells and the past as I remember it, so, what can we say. Is it possible, then, that a journalist with his own job to do and his own narrative to tell, fostered a conversation that naturally elicited potentially controversial (at least, as you’ve taken them) remarks, rather than a bunch of stuff about “how excited I am about the material, I really like these stories”—which is, you know, fairly boring stuff to read?

Who knows. I might be totally paranoid, and maybe John meant every damn word he said, and ONLY that. The one thing for which I can vouch right now is that John did not choose to direct these plays because I’m an American, and because they were the safe choice. No one, quite sadly, has ever produced anything of mine, just because I’m an American (any takers?), and I’m not nearly successful enough to be considered a safe choice by anyone. John directed these plays because we’re friends, and because he said he liked the scripts. Michaela produced these plays because she said she liked the scripts. I apologize if that contradicts your previous experience of their savvy. And if the supporting materials, omniscient as they may be, failed to express the passion with which these productions were undertaken, let me assure you, as someone who was there in rehearsals, during previews, just generally hanging around, that John and the rest of the cast and crew honored me with hourly reminders that that passion for this material was ever-present in their work. And with that passion did come risk, as it always does when you put yourself on the line to do the best you can with something you care about. Though I can certainly see why, based on the information you had, that risk didn’t translate into the same kind of risk you find exciting as an audience member. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t there, and it doesn’t mean their integrity has been compromised. Their tastes may diverge from yours, and their sense of the purpose of theatre might take a different form, but they are no less committed to that purpose than you are to yours.

I know, you found the plays average at best, and that’s very well what they might be; I’m young, I’m not the world’s greatest writer, and I’m still struggling to do my job better, as I imagine I always will be. But to say, “I love comedy and love stories, and these were comedies and love stories, and I could see these stories weren’t good, and I know the director, cast and crew of these plays, and know they’re smart enough to see when a story isn’t good, and yet they did these anyway…THEREFORE, there must have been some ulterior motive!” does not, I’m afraid, account for the possibility that there was something in the material that spoke to them, when it did not speak to you, and something in the endeavor of this production, which differs from the motivations that drive you to undertake a production. Which is, you know, exactly what makes this whole business so beautiful. Or, maybe they’re just more easily hoodwinked than you are.

Thank you for your responses –
I did intend to respond to each – but first I need to thank Andy Hyman for writing in to weigh in on my response.

Thank you Andy.

I just want to clarify a few things, where I may not have been very clear – and words are slippery things, are they not?

When I am talking about risk – I am talking about the artists risking something of themselves. I am not talking about the idea of edgy/risky content as in serious/ earnest/topical/ political agendas.

What I am talking about is risking an opinion, I’m talking about the writer and the artists involved risking something in and of themselves – to tell me what they believe.

I am not referring to financial risk – All theatre is an act of financial risk – and professional risk – but I am talking about personal risk as in risking who you are because you are confronting a question you personally have.

Though your response is extraordinarilly humble, Andy – there is a lot culturally about Australia and the Australian theatre scene – and the Sydney Independent scene that I think you may not be aware of.

I am very happy to declare my hand and say I find it more than disappointing when I go to the theatre and hear more American accents spilling out of the mouths of very talented Australian Actors. And in an age when we are absolutely surrounded by American voices, I am of the opinion that the more Australian voices we hear, the better. Australian audiences deserve and want Australian stories – infact we need it.

And I don’t doubt that John and Michaela have much drive and purpose to what they are doing. That is not in question. However I am wondering what that thing is that drives them to make the art that they do? And all I have said in this response is that I didn’t connect with the work – and I was/am musing on why that it.

I suspect it is because I make work and direct plays within the context I am living. And John, having been abroad for some time may have an opinion or a view of Australian theatre that may not necessarilly be my experience of Sydney theatre (Indie/fringe or otherwise) – and I was creating a response to that.

In reference to directors and writers notes – no one should ever feel pressured to write one. If the work speaks for itself it speaks for itself. Also – I think the directors and writers notes are often a reflection on the ideas of the play – and for me are best when they speak specifically to the WHY behind the production of the show in it’s current context. The notes are most exciting when they contextualise the play specifically to the audience- and for me these notes could have been said about any rom-coms, anywhere, anytime.

The other thing I would say is that all writers deserve the chance to develop their work. And I think often the best place for a writer to risk their world view/perspective is in the context of their life – in the town/city they live… mainly because those that live in your context can keep the writer honest and accountable… and can offer support and understanding. Infact, i think it is easier to develop in your own context because people may share your sensibility. As in this case. I don’t seemingly share your sensibility. And that could well be cultural.

I didn’t connect with your plays. And I am well within my rights to do so. If others did – that is more than ok with me – in fact I think that’s great. I am only one person airing my thoughts and perspective and declaring my tastes and opinion and preference.

In the case of my preference, my preference is supporting local writers in their development first.

And to reassure you, when given the choice between attending Shakespeare and a new Australian play I always choose the new Australian.

Given the choice between attending old/new American plays and Australian plays, I will always choose to attend the Australian play.I have a curiousity about and for the Australian voice – and that’s my prejudice – and I am openly declaring that.

I don’t think that anyone is being hoodwinked.I don’t think John et all are not committed. I do. It’s clear, they are. No question. I just think they have different tastes and priorities.

My priority is to make art.

To make art that challenges me, provoked me into new and difficult territory that forces me to grow as a person and an artist… and that reflects how I feel/see the world.

As an audience member, I want to be engaged and excited by the material. I want to fall in love with the ideas, language, production, message, concept, style. On this occasion, I didn’t. That’s not to say others wont and I don’t deny them that joy. I am not writing about your plays to turn people off – in fact, I am writing about your plays because it made me question something about my own desires for what theatre is and should be… and for that I am grateful.

Thanks again for writing Andy. I think you are very brave, and I hope you continue to develop your writing. Thank you also for clarifying the Gielgud stuff – it did seem in the article like quite superficial, career posturing. Which is the quickest way to turn me off discussing art and ideas with any artist.

But hey, that’s just me… and as one old gent once told me “for every cup there is a saucer”… and I guess your saucer wasn’t made for my cup, that’s all.

Augusta Supple

Sydney-based theatre director, producer and writer. This site is about my long, deep, bright-eyed, ever-hopeful, sometimes difficult, always invigorating, rambunctious, rebellious, dynamic and very personal relationship with Australian Arts and Culture... I reflect on shows, talks, essays, writing, artists that inspire me to say something, and you'll find out what I'm working on, who I'm working with and what inspires me.